Aftermath
by Samisim
Summary: Tag to Tempus *mild spoilers*  Past Helen finds a beaten Druitt in an alleyway.


Title: Aftermath

Author: Samisim

Rating: K+

Status: Complete

Summary: Tag to Tempus. ***Beware mild spoilers*** Past Helen discovers a beaten Druitt in an alley.

Disclaimer: Sanctuary is not mine. No profit made, it's just for fun.

AN: I have no Beta so all mistakes are mine. Let me know what you think.

There he lay in an almost unrecognizable heap in the shadow of a darkened alley. Helen was on James' arm being escorted home after only just discovering Imogene's lifeless body battered under ruble. The echo of Adam Worth's accusations that this was all her fault still reverberating through her. The poor man, her heart ached for Adam. The loss of a daughter must have been unimaginably devastating.

Upon seeing him she knew instantly or perhaps innately that it was John Druitt's form curled in on itself. She couldn't see his face at all, but knew. Her memory of their meeting only mere hours ago shot through her causing a sudden pang of fear in her gut; at least she wanted to believe it was. How could she feel anything else for this man after he nearly sliced her throat in her own study?

James' was beside her uncharacteristically unnoticing of his surroundings, missing the man half hidden in the shadows. James was somehow pulled away in thought, perhaps his own mind whirring with all the activities they had been witness to tonight. She couldn't blame him. She too was feeling the mental tumult; only her mind was inexplicable pulled and set on one man. She didn't say a word as they passed by him. She would find him later, to what end she was unsure, but it was beyond personal.

She knew he must have had some internal injuries, his body shook ever so slightly and he perspired despite the coolness of the room. Helen wiped at his brow gingerly trying to discern the method of his injuries. John Druitt, the man that could teleport away from any danger was injured by some unknown force. She had to find out whom or what could have done this to him. They had to be stopped if only to protect the people of London against an aggressor that outmatched this man lying in her bed. He didn't open his eyes, he wasn't unconscious, just unwilling to open them. She was intrigued to say the least. She tried to be but she was far from detached from feeling for this troubled man. Her heart betrayed her again and again when it came to John Druitt; she hated that about herself, and tried to cling to anything else but the ache and longing he caused to swell in her bosom. At least her outward appearance suggested she was not as affected by him. She knew she fooled most but definitely not James Watson's keen eye into her heart.

"John. I know you are awake." She waited to gauge his reaction to her words before continuing.

He opened his eyes slowly. He was unreadable to her. He wasn't crazed as he was before, but calm and still. "Helen, why have you brought me here?" He seemed small despite his usual overbearing presence.

She hardened her words to him, "Curiosity above all else."

He seemed incredulous at this, "Curiosity for what, my dear? I do not understand you at all." He exhaled loudly. "You wanted to see the pain you inflicted so expertly. That is cruel for even you, Helen."

She mistook his words for the emotions he was undoubtedly consumed with from his previous encounter with her in the study. Helen didn't know what to say, she was deflated from all that had occurred earlier. She was tired and it showed. He stared at her his unbelief purely evident.

"John, I know you will heal. Your injuries are not life threatening to you. I couldn't leave you there in the street." She paused seemingly trying to find the courage to say something. "Why did you not teleport away?" She asked softly, indicating his bruised face with her index finger.

He scoffed at this, swatted her hand away from his face. He understood her to mean from the impossibly skilled encounter they had earlier in the alley. He was still reeling from it, but his adrenaline had run its course and left him bereft. Sleep was chasing him, not a contemptuous blonde this time…or was it brunette? His head hurt. His eyes sliding closed, he whispered, "Leave me be, Helen."

He wasn't going to answer her and she knew it. She sensed her mere presence was the source of most of his pain. She frowned inwardly. She didn't know what to do about him. She placed the rag she used to wipe his brow on the bedside table. Helen rose from the bed, she grasped on to her resolve. "You will heal from your injuries," she said flatly. "The source blood coursing through your veins will make sure of that."

He didn't respond to her.

She smoothed her dress down in the front. She tried to sound compassionate, "I do want to help you, John, make no mistake."

He turned away from her. She forced herself to stay put. She could feel the compulsion to return back to his side. Helen knew he wouldn't be there in the morning. He was hard to resist when he was himself, the peaceful John she fell in love with, not the tormented violent brute he showed to her more often than not. She did want to help him. She really did. She would someday…when he was ready. She turned away from him and left the room.


End file.
